


At Least They're Not Star Wars PJs

by thalialunacy



Category: Leverage
Genre: Art, Banter, Cooking, Eliot Spencer's hair, Ficlet, M/M, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 05:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3680406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the one with the pancakes</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Least They're Not Star Wars PJs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Canon_Is_Relative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canon_Is_Relative/gifts).



> prompted by and written for canonisrelative, because somehow, through a hundred thousand texts about Christian Kane's hair, she has become very dear to me. and today's her birthday or something? so.

Standing at the stove, Eliot's bedhead is somewhat distracting, as is the way his pajama pants are hanging on for dear life, basically, at this point. Fighting valiantly against the pull of lazy, sleepy, morning-after gravity.

Hardison stifles a yawn and scratches at his belly. He can relate. But he politely resists the urge to help them on their way. There's breakfast to be had, after all, and Eliot's wizardry in the kitchen is not a mojo Hardison messes with. Usually because he stands to directly benefit, especially today.

Hopefully especially today, he thinks with half a grin.

But then he looks over Eliot's shoulder and sees what's cooking. And it becomes a full grin.

"Move over," he says immediately yet magnanimously, opening his palms like a magician about to do a trick.

"Sorry," Eliot responds in the tone that means it's actually the other party who's going to be sorry, "but what did you just say?"

"I said," Hardison continues, reaching to remove the spatula from Eliot's grip without acknowledging the fact that, if Eliot's face is an accurate barometer, he's in mortal danger for doing so, "you may have your ninja cooking skills, but I—" He twirls the spatula. Eliot's eyebrow twitches. "—am the Pancake ~Master."

Eliot doesn't move. Finally, he just mutters, "That's not what you said."

But relentless Hardison is relentless, as usual. "Pancake. Master."

Eliot puts up his hands. "Fine. But don't come runnin' to me when you set the kitchen on fire."

Hardison makes a fist around the spatula, puts it to his other palm, and bows. "Watch and learn, grasshopper."

Eliot grunts and steps back, folding his hands across his chest. Hardison lifts the spatula-fist up in victory.

"You got a frosting pipette?"

Eliot stares at him, a little pinch between his eyebrows. "Do I have a-- Are you serious right now?"

"Hell yes, I'm serious."

"A pipette."

"Don't look at me like I stole your candy, I know you have one laying around here somewhere. I can start going through your cupboards here if you want, but--"

The bag nearly hits him in the face. He grins anyway. "Know you too well, bro."

"Don't remind me," Eliot grumbles, re-crossing his arms. "Now get. I want to see this magic."

Hardison cocks his head while he's filling the thing. It's tricky but he's nothing if not nimble with his fingers. "I bet you say that to all the ladies."

"Just shut up and cook."

"I bet you say that to them, too." He lays down the first layer of batter, just the outline and dots, watching for sploops and pleased when there are none. Then he fills it in, easy as pie, and when he flips the whole thing over, there's an actual Mickey Mouse pancake staring at them. Not just three blobs like well-meaning parents do, but the whole thing.

Eliot looks non-plused. "Not bad."

"Not bad?" Hardison grins. "But wait, there's more."

'More' means Invader Zim, a Dalek, and even the one-eyed chick from _Futurama_. Eliot watches intently, and by the last one he's close up on Hardison's back left, his arms relaxed at his side and his expression trying not to be too impressed.

Hardison nudges him with an elbow before flipping over a cranky-looking Garfield. "What did I say?"

Eliot clears his throat. "I didn't… didn't know that you could do that." He's immediately grumpy with this answer. This is a new situation for him, okay, and apparently part of the fallout is that he sucks at compliments. And, somehow, in a weird twist of bizarro!world logic, breakfast. Both of which he has always considered himself rather skilled with.

"I told you," Hardison says, apparently not fazed by Eliot's lack of eloquence. "Pancake. Master."

"You're ridiculous."

"Your _hair_ is ridiculous, man, seriously. I didn't even notice you moving around all that much during the night, so--"

He stops. Clears his throat. Eliot's hand twitches, but he's not reaching for his hair. They're standing so close, it should be weird, and it is, and it should be _not_ weird, considering what had happened twelve hours prior, and so it kind of isn't. It's all of the above.

There's a lot of silence while Eliot contemplates this, watching Hardison start on another batter-y creation.

"Hashtag ~awkward," Hardison finally mutters.

Eliot's still for a moment, then a smile spreads across his face, real slow like Sunday morning. "I'll show you awkward," he mutters, and steps forward enough to crowd Hardison against the counter. He grips Hardison's left wrist and moves it until the pipette is hovering over the counter.

"Whoa, hey," Hardison protests, "I'm almost done with Itchy and Scratchy!" 

Eliot growls, and slides a hand under Hardison's shirt, and Hardison relinquishes the pipette without a second thought. He turns off the burner, turns around, and reaches out to find out what that bedhead feels like.

Eliot leans back sharply. "Is there--"

Hardison rolls his eyes. "There's no batter on my hand, no, man. What do you think I am, a second grader? That was some class-A art, right there, and--"

"For the love of God," Eliot interrupts, "I was just checking." His grip on Hardison's wrist tightens, his eyes dropping to Hardison's mouth.

And no more pancakes get made that day.

**Author's Note:**

> pancake art is legit amazing & can be seen [here](https://youtu.be/McPBsNo367c)


End file.
